CG23 W is for Who Dares Wins
by Miz Em
Summary: Summer 2007 Alphabet challenge at the Numb3rs Forum. Sequel to E is for Entr'acte. AU, after Janus List.  This is number 23!  Q is for Quagmire is the 1st in the series. There will be no further updates to this piece.


Summer 2007 Alphabet challenge at the Numb3rs Forum. Sequel to E is for Entr'acte. AU, after Janus List. This is number 23! Q is for Quagmire is the 1st in the series. There will be no further updates to this piece.

--

Silently, the four men checked their weapons and equipment at DDFS before they left for their various modes of transportation.

Colby and Luke had to pare the amount of their equipment down, since they had to arrive on the island via water. Still, Steele or someone in their tech department had managed to find small waterproof packs for them to carry their equipment while underwater. They also had their scuba equipment and wetsuits to check out. Only the finest that money could buy was good enough for them.

Don was fascinated by the number and variety of small weapons that Luke was managing to secrete away in the skintight clothing they had on. He contented himself with his usual gun on his belt and in his ankle holster. Colby had done the same, except for an additional dagger in his boot and another in his belt, plus what looked like a set of lock picks. Don shook his head. He didn't want to know what other skills Colby had.

Sean also had a gun on his belt, plus one in an ankle holster, but he also had a broken down rifle that he could quickly reassemble. In addition, he had packed ice climbing equipment in two packs, one for Don and one for himself, despite Steele's assurance that Luchenko would be providing those. He wanted only the best equipment if his life was going to depend on it.

But it was the look on Luke's face whenever he caught sight of his brand new wedding ring that got to Steele. "It'll be over soon," he reassured Luke.

Luke smiled at him. He twisted his ring several times, debating whether to leave it on. Finally, he slipped it off and handed it Fiona. "Keep it safe for me; I'll want it back soon."

She slipped the gold chain she was wearing over her head, and hands shaking a little, unhooked it so she could slip the ring on. As she put it back around her neck she said, "Next to my heart, where you are, always."

The others gave the newlyweds a moment as they headed out. As soon as Luke and Fiona joined them again, Steele told them, "Colby and Luke, you'll fly via charter to Norfolk. A Navy helicopter will take you out to an aircraft carrier halfway to your destination where you will rendezvous with the submarine. Wendy's information on the island's defenses showed the range of their radar. The submarine will take you just outside that range. They'll surface long enough for you to slip into the water and head back out into the ocean. Not very far, because they have to stay within range of your communicators. They will wait for your all-clear signal so they can come back and pick you up."

At Colby and Luke's nods, Steele turned to Don and Sean. "The plan for you is a little simpler, though less direct. It would be closer if you could fly directly to Petropavlovsk, but you have to meet Luchenko in Moscow. Luchenko will fly with you to Petropavlovsk. He decided that the easiest way to deal with the fact that neither of you speak Russian is to stick to the truth as far as possible. You will be Americans who have been paid to check out the guidance system, to ensure it's in full working order. He'll provide the cold weather gear in addition to the papers and passes you will need to get around at Petropavlovsk. You should be able to come back that way, but we'll be keeping tabs on all of you in case we need to change plans."

Steele took a deep breath and said softly, "Good luck." He could hear the hitch in Fiona's breath, but Luke had already slipped into mission mode and was heading out, as were the others. They had all said what they needed to say to their loved ones before they'd arrived today. It was all about the mission now.

--

But instead of going to sleep like he usually did on the flight, Luke sat cross-legged on the wide chair and slipped into meditation.

Colby marveled as he watched him. The slight reluctance to leave Fiona this time had been obvious, even after they had taken off. But all that was replaced by calm after an hour of meditation. He decided to try it as well. He sat cross-legged across from Luke and tried to clear his mind.

But memories of the night he spent with Hannah flooded his mind. Methodically, he followed each memory, savoring it, before putting it away in the recesses of his mind. The happiness in her eyes when he proposed. The desire and the pleasure in her face when they made love. The tenderness as she tried to show him how much she loved him and supported him. The giddiness when they found out that Luke and Fiona were getting married. The delight when they finally sat down to the crêpes Suzette he had slaved over.

He took a deep breath when he came to the memory of her kissing the engagement ring, a sheen of tears in her eyes. He had walked out of the shower that morning to find her doing that, with his shirt wrapped around her. She had looked up and smiled; the brilliant smile that always took his breath away. "Come back to me," she had whispered. And he'd promised he would.

He clung to that memory a moment longer before putting it away. He took another deep breath, then began to concentrate on his breathing, and only on his breathing.

His eyes met Luke's when they were alerted by the pilot's announcement that they would be landing in twenty minutes. He saw Luke's faint smile at his own meditative pose. But it had been the right thing to do. Colby was at peace, with his life, with the mission. He was ready for whatever might happen.

They were silent for the rest of the journey, except for whatever responses were required of them. The helicopter ride was as thrilling as always. This time Colby enjoyed it with a heightened sense of awareness, with a heady enjoyment that he'd never had. The aircraft carrier was a brief stopover, a place to transfer from the helicopter to the submarine. He'd never been in a submarine before this, and he wondered how these men and women managed to live in it, day in and day out, for months on end. It didn't give him the creeps exactly, but he missed the sky and the fresh air after only a few hours. 

Then they were there.

--

Don groaned when Sean pulled out his deck of playboy bunny cards and began laying out a hand of solitaire after the plane took off.

Raising an eyebrow, Sean told him, "I could do without the editorial. A man has to do something to relax."

"Most men manage to relax without pulling out pictures of naked women," Don retorted.

"Unless you want to play a few hands of poker, I'd appreciate it if you leave me be long enough for me to get into the right mindset for the mission," Sean was starting to get exasperated.

Shaking his head, Don got up and went to another seat. He unwrapped a piece of gum and put it in his mouth. He began to chew it, popping it occasionally.

"And I'll just bet no one has ever told you to stop that gum popping," Sean said sarcastically over his shoulder.

"It's not nearly as offensive as your cards."

"But just as annoying to those who hate it, I'll wager."

Don laughed, he'd been told to stop with the gum popping often enough. "Alright, live and let live. I'll leave you alone about the cards and you leave me alone about the gum."

Sean chuckled, "We don't want to get along too quickly. It'll shock everyone, even your father."

But the silence, as both men dealt with the mission ahead in their own way, was companionable for the rest of the trip to Moscow.

They found Luchenko without any problems. Both men had seen him at the US-Russian summit where Fiona had turned him into a double agent for the US.

Luchenko raised his eyebrows when he saw them. They'd never officially met, but he recognized them from the same summit. "It is a small world, yes? Come quickly, we will catch the next plane very soon."

_No customs or any kind of official check of their papers,_ Sean thought with some admiration. _He must have pulled some serious strings._

The flight to Petropavlovsk was quiet. Don and Sean had reached a tacit agreement to leave each other be, at least for the duration of the mission. Luchenko seemed disinclined to talk, though he was obviously nervous. His hands shook a little each time he picked something up; it was most obvious when he picked up his shots of vodka.  
Sean kept a close count of those shots of vodka. He exchanged a glance with Don over it. Sean knew that many Russians had a high tolerance for the vodka, but he didn't want Luchenko plastered while he and Don depended on him. But he needn't have worried. Luchenko must have been keeping a count of his own, because he stopped soon after. And Sean realized that Luchenko's hands were no longer shaking.

The airfield they landed at in Petropavlovsk was deserted but surprisingly modern. Sean shivered as he surveyed the field, glad of the down filled parka that Luchenko had handed them. _This must be the only way they keep the missile site supplied._

"This way," Luchenko made his way briskly over to several snowmobiles parked on the edge of the field. "I trust you can run these?"

Don grinned in delight. He loved winter sports though he rarely had a chance to indulge. He would at least enjoy this part of it.

The snowmobiles were surprisingly quiet. The white parkas and insulated pants they were in, and the white snowmobiles they were on made them practically invisible in the white snow-covered countryside. Don appreciated the planning on Luchenko's part for that.

Luchenko signaled for a stop. "We're here," he told them when they stopped and raised their eyebrows in query.

Sean looked around in surprise. He would never have guessed it.

"It is in this hill," Luchenko explained when he noticed the surprised looks. "You cannot see it from here, but at the top, there is a trapdoor that opens, so the missiles can be raised and aimed."

Silently, they trudged up the incline behind Luchenko to a hidden doorway into the hill.

--

Colby and Luke slipped into the dark water without a splash. With a hand signal to the man at the submarine, they were off. Steadily, they made their way towards the island. After swimming a little way, Colby turned to look behind him. He was just in time to see the sub sink gracefully into the depths. Turning back, he saw that Luke had been steadily swimming towards the island in the time he'd stopped to gawk at the sub. Amused by Luke's single-mindedness, he picked up his pace till he was again swimming by Luke's side.

They reached the rocky beach of the island without incident. Colby was glad to finally get out of the icy water. Despite the thickness of the wetsuit and the clothing they had beneath the wetsuit, the cold still managed to seep through.

Quietly, he followed Luke who had spotted a likely hiding place for their scuba gear. They helped each other slide the tanks off their backs, and quickly stripped off the wetsuits. Colby raised an eyebrow when Luke stopped to leave a communicator in the hiding place with the wetsuits and tanks. But he said nothing, it was a good idea and he was glad Luke had thought of it.

Both men paused for a moment to survey the surroundings. The rocky beach was narrow and butted up against a low cliff. There was a shallow path to the top of that cliff along one side. Luke made for that shallow path and Colby followed. The path was also rocky, but the two men made their way easily to the top on it.

They stopped just before they got to the top of the path. Wendy's information on the island's defenses had been sparse. The radar on the surrounding waters had been expected. The other piece of information was on the guards that patrolled the area with their dogs.

Colby knew that Luke had brought a small tranquilizer gun for those dogs. Luke loved animals and would not hurt them for the world, especially for something like this. The dogs were only here because a madman had set things in motion.

She had not been able to find out how many guards there were, or how frequently they patrolled the island. The two men stayed low until they could ascertain that there were very few guards, and they had plenty of time to cross from the beach to the missile silo. Apparently the Chinese authorities had thought the remoteness of the island was enough of a deterrent for intruders.

It wasn't any surprise to them that the door to the missile silo was locked. Colby pulled out his lock picks and went to work. After a few seconds, he had the door unlocked. But he shook his head, dissatisfied with the time he'd had to take. His skill with the lock picks were diminishing with disuse.

Luke patted him on the shoulder. In the scheme of things, it was a minor thing.

Again, the information on the layout of the silo had been minimal. After some hesitation, Colby decided on a direction. They got to a sign, and even though it was in Chinese, Colby managed to read enough of it to tell that he had picked the correct direction. He saw Luke grin and realized that his relief must have showed in his expression. He shrugged. He'd been lucky.

Cautiously, they made their way down first one passage way, then another. At one point, they flattened themselves against the wall behind a shadowy stairwell. They had heard voices in what sounded like a shift change. When things quieted back down, they made their way up the stairwell.

At the top of the stairwell, Colby grinned and gave Luke a thumbs-up. He had found the control room.

--

Luchenko rang the doorbell when they got to the door. A spate of Russian came from behind the door, and Luchenko answered, also in Russian. A guard opened the door cautiously and eyed the three men suspiciously. Still talking, Luchenko handed him the papers and gestured at the passes the three men now wore, evidently trying to convince the guard that they were supposed to be there. The guard finally let them in. But he pointed to a door at the end of the corridor and the torrent of Russian he directed at Luchenko made Sean think that they were to check in with someone.

Sean grinned when that door opened and another man looked at them with suspicion. This one was obviously of a higher rank. Luchenko handed the papers to him, still talking and gesticulating.

"_Zdorovo,_" Sean tried one of the few phrases of Russian he knew. He ignored Don's surprise and Luchenko's amusement at the use of the greeting.

"_Predaatyel!_" The officer spat in their direction and waved them on. He slammed the door.

Luchenko sighed in relief.

"Did he call us what I thought he called us?" Sean murmured mildly.

"What did he call us?" Don demanded.

"Traitors," Luchenko translated reluctantly.

Fury boiled through Don. He was not a traitor. But he swallowed the fury. To the Russian's eyes, he was indeed a traitor, or at the very least, a mercenary. After all, he was an American, purportedly paid to check the missile's guidance system. For a fleeting moment, he empathized with Colby's situation. Then he had no time to think as they hurried through the corridors.

The passes they wore around their necks let them through each guard post with no problems.

"I will wait here," Luchenko told them, when they got to the bottom of the stairwell. "No one will be up there in the control room. I will keep watch."

Sean raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Keep watch? Even though we're supposed to be here?"

Luchenko shrugged, "I do not leave much to chance, my friend. I cannot help but feel uneasy at how quickly they allowed us through, even though we have papers and passes."

Warily, Sean exchanged a glance with Don. They nodded and made their way into the control room.

When they had the door shut behind them, Don asked, "Do you think we can trust him?"

"As much as we can trust any of our double agents, I suppose."

But Don could tell that Sean was uneasy. "Can you manage the disarming alone? I'll stand watch at the door if you can."

Sean hesitated but apparently decided he could, "That works. The door isn't that far, I can always just call out to you if I've forgotten anything."

Don gave him a quick grin and moved towards the door. "I'll check in, let them know we're in the control room."

Nodding absently, Sean paused to take a deep breath and wiggled his fingers over the control panel. Then lights began to flash.

"What did you do?" Don demanded.

"Nothing!" Sean began to unscrew the panel quickly, doing his best to follow what he remembered of Larry's instructions.

"You must have done something," Don said in alarm, "The trapdoor's opened and missiles are rising!"

"I told you, I didn't do anything," Sean snarled. His fingers fumbled a little as they searched out the various wires. He hoped that he remembered the right colors. Tracing one wire, he followed it to the board that it was connected to and searched for the specific chip that Larry had described.

"Hurry," Don told him. There was a commotion at the bottom of the stairwell and he wasn't happy about it. He pulled his gun out and prepared for intruders.

"Assemble my rifle, Don," Sean said tersely, as he disconnected the chip with the small cutter that Larry had provided. "It's not stopping!"

Don cursed in the midst of assembling Sean's rifle, "That's what Spencer meant when he said it was out of his control. He must have had the missiles programmed to launch at a specific time." He glared at Sean. "What are you doing now?"

"Cutting wires, what does it look like I'm doing?" Sean scowled at him. "This thing needs to be powered, if I can cut the power, it should stop."

_Well, that makes some sort of sense._ Don propped the rifle against the console and went back to the door. Shots were fired, and the commotion stopped. He could hear footsteps running up the stairwell.

Then all of a sudden, there was silence in the missile silo. Blessed silence.

"Damn if you didn't stop the missile launch," Don muttered in admiration.

"No time for that," Sean grabbed his rifle. "Is there another way out of here?"

"Not unless you consider going up the missile silo," Don began to say. Then he stopped at the gleam in Sean's eyes. "Oh, no. Not that way. What about Luchenko?"

"He's probably dead," Sean said curtly. He made his way towards the missile silo and began to climb up the rungs built into the side of the silo.

Muttering uncomplimentary things about Sean, Don followed. He was now glad he'd carried the climbing gear in his backpack that Sean had insisted on, and equally glad that he hadn't left it in that Russian's office though he'd thought briefly about it. At least, until he'd been called a traitor. The anger that rose with that thought was enough to propel him to the top of the missile silo.

They were both breathing hard when they got to the top. 

"Now what?" They were both balanced precariously on the narrow platform around the trapdoor of the silo.

"First, we take these guys out," Sean muttered as he got into position. Carefully, he picked off each guard that was coming up the ladder behind them.

"They've fanned out in the surrounding area," Don told him as he watched the men search the white countryside.

"Looking for us, no doubt," Sean replied. He climbed back into the silo.

Don stared at him, "What are you doing?"

"Going back in, what does it look like I'm doing? Jeez, Eppes," Sean looked frustrated. 

Don sighed, "I guess that makes sense, if they're looking for us outside."

"They won't be looking for us inside, come on!"

It took them less time to get down the silo. Silently, they made their way down the stairwell.

"Dead," Sean said with regret, when they got to Luchenko's body. "I wonder what gave us away."

"We'll never know. At least we stopped the missiles," Don told him.

"Now all we have to do is get out of this place," Sean muttered.

"This way," Don told him.

Sean followed him. Then they heard a commotion behind them. "They've found us," Sean scowled. "Which way?"

"Come on!" Don ran towards an open doorway, and Sean followed him. The door slammed behind them, and they heard the lock click into place. "Oh no."

"What?" Sean demanded. Then he groaned as he took a look around. "You led us into a meat locker!"

--

Once inside the control room, Luke stopped to send the signal to Steele, indicating that they had found the control room. Colby took a look around. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but it looked like any other room. Warily, he looked for the missiles, and found them in their storage lockers. They weren't even in position to be raised up the silo.

Luke shrugged when Colby met his eyes, and went to work on the panel. His eyebrows rose in surprise when he opened the panel. At Colby's raised eyebrow, he held two fingers up to Colby. There were two guidance systems. Evidently the Chinese believed in redundant backup systems. Frowning slightly, he took one while Colby took the other.

Silently they both worked to trace their way to the chip that Larry said would disarm the guidance system. They made no sound, but the relief was obvious in both their faces when they found and disconnected the chip. Luke watched curiously as Colby slipped a small black box into his pocket. Carefully, Luke replaced the panel, then sent the signal that the guidance system was disarmed.

They made their way cautiously out of the control room and down the stairwell. Colby led them back the way they came in.

And stopped when the floodlights came on in the corridor. Soldiers were in front of them with guns aimed at them. Narrowing their eyes, they turned at a quiet laugh behind them.

"So, it is as he said," the small Chinese man said affably. "The master assassin has deigned to pay us a visit." He bowed to Luke. "I am Jiang An-Jin," he smiled, "Master information gatherer for the Chinese government."

Luke's eyes narrowed. "In other words, torturer," he murmured softly.

Anger flashed in Jiang's eyes, but he controlled it. "I have admired you for many years. You are primarily an assassin, but I understand you have some skill in gathering information as well." He chuckled softly. "I look forward to comparing techniques. I am sure your companion here will prove to be a worthy subject."

The sound of Jiang's laughter echoed eerily down the corridor as Luke and Colby were led away.

--

A/N: Yep, you guessed it. Everything about the missile guidance system is made up.

What do you think? Will the boys make it out alive? evil cackle


End file.
